


Maybe I'm a Virgo

by TotemundTabu



Series: 30 THROBB SMUTS [11]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dom Robb Stark, Graffiti, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Sub Theon Greyjoy, Top Robb Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-01-27 04:55:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12574168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotemundTabu/pseuds/TotemundTabu
Summary: "The car still smelled like his father. The pine tree deodorant that Sansa loathed, which his father kept because it reminded him of his childhood and because it hid the scent of tobacco from their mother. Still, a hint of it Robb could detect. And the confectioner’s sugar that coated the donuts he liked to munch on during breaks and shouldn't have, the doctor had forbidden it due to their family history, but he never really managed to cut them out. And the scent of coffee from the stain on the seat that never went away." --- After years, Robb is still trying to accept his father's death, when he meets Theon, a young Graffiti artist, with a bloody nose.





	1. Almost human

**Author's Note:**

> For tumblr user waytoomuchhh who sent me the prompt :D You are so sweet!   
> Thank you to my wife for correcting my neverending typos :P  
> I hope to update the other 2 chapters soon!

**Maybe I'm a Virgo**

 

* * *

 

_1\. Almost human_

 

* * *

 

 

The car still smelled like his father.

The pine tree deodorant that Sansa loathed, which his father kept because it reminded him of his childhood and because it hid the scent of tobacco from their mother. Still, a hint of it Robb could detect. And the confectioner’s sugar that coated the donuts he liked to munch on during breaks and shouldn't have, the doctor had forbidden it due to their family history, but he never really managed to cut them out. And the scent of coffee from the stain on the seat that never went away. 

He caressed the seat, the brown interiors, a tiny bit afraid, a tiny bit reverent, as if it was sacrilegious and too painful to try to touch his father again, to absorb him from leather and plastic.

Robb breathed in, sighed, caressing the wheel.

He wished he could have hated him, somehow, or forget him at least, instead of keeping him there, sacred and painful in his poorly-stitched heart.

Robb looked through the window – ice frozen still on the glass, as white as everything around him – he loathed white. It was so empty.  _That_ day the sky was a sickly, milky white color and the wind would spit old snow at the window. Everything was white.

He licked his lips. He didn't have a choice, did he? Sansa needed a car and she couldn't even bring herself to go in this one, so, yes, he had to be the big brother and protect her and use dad's old car, while she got his. He didn't want to complain, he also wanted to protect Sansa, of course.

He just... would have liked for someone to protect him too, from time to time.

Ned Stark died the 13 th of September of last year.

Robb had been the man of the family since. 

Robb's glance fell on the radio, with an old CD-player, the kind that made so much noise and had big, aesthetically unpleasing buttons. It felt almost good. It felt like his dad.

He remembered something and opened the car compartment and looked inside – he was sure there must have been... and there, between papers, and a snack bar that was probably expired since years, a little CD box. Robb smiled, chuckling.

The ‘Deep Purple live’ CD they listened to for all their childhood, every damn family road trip.

They had listened to it so much, it still felt unnatural for a song to not be followed by another automatically when he heard it, and for the longest time, as a kid, it felt like a whole giant one hour and a half song. And he loved that.

He remembered showing his father  _Appetite for Destruction_ years after and saying “these are my Deep Purple” getting back the most concerned look. He hadn’t thought that his father had understood.

But years after, when they drove to a close by town, absolutely intending to buy  _Use your Illusion I_ and  _II_ – Robb had tormented his dad that that day they would have had to go, absolutely that day, not one after, not a second after returning from school – his father looked at him, smiled, seeing the way Robb kept the albums in his hands like they were the holy grail, eyes all sparkly with love, and mumbled, “Do you wanna put that in?” .

It hadn’t even felt true, until his dad pressed the noisy CD player’s button and invited Robb to insert the album. 

Robb bit his lips, smiling. And put in the Deep Purple album.

It did hurt a bit, when it started, but he forced himself to not cry and turn on the car.

It felt a bit less lonely, with the music playing – but he had lost his dad, he had lost a person he loved and things like these are not cuts, after all, that become scars and then in years not visible anymore, they are mutilations and pieces you never get back. And if you look at the trunk you'll think about the leaves.

Robb's lips trembled on the words.

And he wondered if it was better to think god didn't exist and his father had melted all into the ground between worms for nothing, or that it existed and his father was still somewhere floating like a balloon a kid had lost and they couldn't feel him anywhere anyway. 

He started driving in the calm moonlight, enjoying the empty road that would bring him to the lake house; he had promised his mother that he would have taken care of it for some days, before she and the little ones would go there. It was the usual stuff: small repairs, checking the water, the gas, controlling the doors, alarms, putting any dormice or fox that had decided to sleep inside the house back in the woods... killing spiders. He hated that part.

But he liked the drive.

It was soothing, like a slow guitar riff that takes its time. And everything was so blue around the lake, a blue vertigo verging on purple. It reminded him of his dad, a bit.

The drive was not more than forty minutes, but it made Grey Wind impatient and bored; the overgrown puppy whined from the backseat, munching on a tennis ball he had reduced to a round monster. 

“What's up, buddy?”, Robb asked, without taking his eyes off the road.

Grey woofed the woof that meant “human, I know, I just know, you're super in the mood for food and I happen to be too, so if we could get some and I could eat half of yours, that would be great” or, more banally, “burgers”.

Robb shook his head, “You ate before!”

Grey let out the whiniest whine and rolled on the backseat, hoping his cuteness would help him to get away with his horrible car etiquette; Robb forced himself to look at the road, instead.

A lower, sadder whine.

A sigh.

“...okay, one snack, but after you stay put for the rest of the travel, deal?”

Grey Wind woofed in agreement and wagged his tail, licking the back of Robb's seat.

Robb was not enthusiastic about their stop, no more than ten minutes away from their destination, but Grey was hungry and he himself could feel his stomach clench a bit. He should have packed some food for the next days, but he had forgotten – it happened often, usually, that he'd forget or not feel like taking care of himself, it tired him, somewhat – and... well, fine, the growl of his own stomach was getting louder than Grey Wind. He just needed to find, in the small town, a place still open at night.

Neon lights saved him, guardian angels of dogs and unorganized adults.

It was a small diner, which he didn't remember ever stopping in, but, to be fair, his mother was not one to make them eat out often. He chuckled at his own reasoning and felt a pang of guilt. Sorry, mom.

His finger pressed the button to stop the CD just as the first note of _Strange kind of woman_ hit in.

He found it funny, somehow. He hadn't heard that song in centuries.

“Grey, c'mon. - he said, smiling – We're gonna get us some cheat food.”

 

*

 

His cheek stung.

It burned with the trace left by his father's latest slap. And the punch in the jaw made his gums bleed and he could still feel a tooth dancing in the hole, - but going to the dentist was not an option so he just shut up and found pleasure in taking control of the pain, cradling the tooth with his tongue, moving it, so he knew when it was going to pulse and how. And it hurt less if it was his doing.

He knew that, he learnt that at eight.

He still remembered how his head hurt and rang like a bell when his father hit it and even more so when he sometimes put a pot on his head before. And his brain shook like jelly in his skull and his skin would hurt and bruise against the metal.

He hated to cook still.

He hated to eat too, but that's another point.

There was a weird pleasure in the metallic taste of his blood now, as it gushed from his gums, and reminded him of those hours, spent in the darkness of a pot over his head. He remembered that more fondly than the beatings of the years that followed, because he didn't have to see his dad. He used to pretend that someone had abducted him, like an alien, entered his brain and stuff. It was not really him, maybe, that way.

And instead when it happened in daylight, he wanted to still think that, but it got harder, because he kept screaming and his slaps were harder and he would say the same things his dad said when calm too, just louder.

And blood filled his mouth with bitterness and he spit it out and the cement welcomed it.

He breathed in the night and the light, moonlit rain and all the scents the wind brought back to him, filling his lungs.

Theon perceived the raindrops on his skin just barely, almost as a wish – it is impalpable and light, a weightless presence. And the knot in his stomach was twisting too hard for him to actually feel anything else for real.

He spat on the ground again, this time there was less blood, but his head still felt dizzy and heavy.

When he was a kid, at least, the punches were shared between three – but his brothers had left.

He should miss them for real reasons, he supposed.

How Rodrik taught him to draw and to play guitar. How Maron showed him how to lie while maintaining eye contact and how to steal from markets.

Admittedly, Maron's teachings had been more useful, given his father was skint with an alternating current since years. Fickle, and yet constant.

Asha used to steal for him, at first – she'd come home with her rucksack full of what she could find, apples, Milkyways, Vimtos, what there was – but then he had to do it on his own. He was quicker than her, more charming. 

He even had some sugar mommies over the years – lonely women, just divorced, in need of company, of self-esteem, of showing off a boytoy just some years older than their sons; that was better than stealing, it didn't feel as pathetic. He felt dirty, at times, covered in the sleek, greasy layer of guilt, but it was sex, he liked it, he was supposed to like it, it felt physically good and men don't care for the emotional aspect, do they? His father surely would have told him so.

The rain started pouring for real then, obscene and hard, damping Theon to the bone, freezing up his marrow.

Guilt was a weird, wary beast that stayed in the shadow until it could chug and swallow you whole... which made sense, in away. To Theon, at least.

Because every time he thought he had moved on, he got caught back in the undertow.

While the rain stormed and shook, a cold breeze cut the sky, watery, icy foam formed on the ground, Theon went to his tunnel, an unfinished one, really, left there half-done by a bad urban planner who had been relocated to the city. It was close enough to Sam's diner for him to get something warm right after.

For the moment, though, it didn't matter.

He took his spray paint and shook it, licking his lips, staring at the gray concrete and trying to focus.

The scent of the paint relaxed him.

There was peace in that artificial, chemical aroma. And it kept him healthy, which was more than he could say about his... last vice. Sex and graffiti were definitively a better alternative.

Traits and lines came out almost on their own, black on grey.

It was easier to let go when one didn't think.

A big heart, as realistic as he could manage, gorily swollen – on one side the tooth of a wolf biting into it, spilling blood, on the other, in a long cut, a tongue teasing it, as if it were licking a cunt.

Theon felt his nose pulse, uncomfortably.

Droplets fell to the ground again. He coughed, tried to snort it in, but it kept running down. Fucking again.

He pressed the sleeve of his sweater against his nose, but the blood spread wet and dark over it. It looked like wine, it tasted like iron.

“Do you need help?”

 

*

 

Robb saw him and for a moment he felt unsure of whether or not he was truly seeing him.

Blood dripping from his nose to the ground. Tick, tock, tick, tock – plotch. The way it courted his lips, falling on the curve of the bottom one, as if it were begging to be drank and licked away, right before he could sink into that mouth.

Robb shook his head, forcing himself not to think that.

He had black hair that was all ruffled, long, it looked like crumpled up silk, it looked like melted night. And his skin was so pale, he had a bit of stubble, dark eyes too, it made his whole face look like marble. 

And like marble, he looked beautiful. Almost like a sculpture, almost a masterpiece. 

He was too beautiful to be human, even as he bled.

“The fuck do you want.”, he replied, yelling.

Okay, maybe he was a bit human.

He sounded upset, not necessarily drunk, but not sober, maybe – and Robb moved closer, lifting his hands up, in sign of peace.

“...did you – he blinked, staring at the wall – Did you make that?”

Theon frowned, annoyed, then stepped back.

“What are you? A cop?”

Robb shook his head, “No, I... hm, I just found it cool.”

The boy looked at him, now frowning. Robb noticed he was a bit too skinny, probably he was not eating properly.

“Is your nose okay?”

He nodded, pressing the cotton sleeve against it. Then swallowed.

“Thank you for the– ”, he tilted his head, pointing at the wall.

Robb shook his, “It's not a compliment, it's the truth. - he looked at it again, holding Grey Wind's leash – It's really cool.”

He frowned, then laughed in relief. “Thanks.”

“Looks like something one would tattoo. - Robb continued, awkwardly putting the hands in his jeans’ pockets, trying to ignore how pretty that guy was – You know, like, it's all... decorative-y.”

The boy seemed pleased, he cocked a brow and curled his lips in a smirk, sharp like the edge of a razor and bright like the moonlight in the dark around them.

“Thanks. - he continued – It's nothing, though, just fun.”

“When I'm having fun I am much less creative...”, Robb said, smiling. His breath turned white in the air from the cold the evening brought, raising from the lake.

The boy looked at him suggestively, lustful.

“How do you have fun usually, I wonder?”

Was he... flirting?

Robb chuckled, laughed nervously, took a step back. Grey Wind hit his leg with his nose, as to force him forward.

“What's your name?”

“Robb.”

“Theon.”, the blood from his nose started to dry on his lips.

Robb was tempted to lick it away, make him all clean, suck him off, clean that too, rim him well and – oh, well. He forced himself not to think about that.

A smile.

“I have to go now, honey.”, he said, in a wink.

Robb nodded, weakly, sure he should have said something to keep him close, but he didn't and he watched him go away.

He looked again at the graffiti. Kraken.

Quite weird, a leviathan pick. But it suited the boy, somehow.

Krakens take ships, break their wood and drag them to the bottom of the ocean, drowning sailors. They are the sirens of the water instead of of the sky.

They are the fury beyond seduction.

And he felt himself weak, heading in that direction.

He watched the boy run away, through the woods and beyond the highway. Towards where the lake poured its purple into the womb of the night.

Grey Wind whined and licked Robbs hand, covered still with the remains of the powdered sugar of a donut that had been eaten a bit too quickly – cream made him a bit sick. He had searched for refreshment in the chill of the night air, maybe in a cigarette too, instead he had found a drowning monster with a lustful smirk, a drowned god in tennis shoes.

The scent of fresh spray paint filled his nostrils.

The plastic bag that contained his food was shook by the wind and made small sounds, and together with crickets filled the night.

“...tomorrow we need to go to the supermarket.”, he whispered.

Grey Wind woofed.

“I also hope to see him again, buddy. - a smile, and Grey woofed again, as Robb shrugged – Maybe, maybe.”

 

*

 

It was soothing, somewhat.

The cold breeze of the late summer nights, welcoming change, the scent of overly ripe melons and the dark, dry taste of the last cigarette still haunting his mouth – he should have felt calmed by it, at peace.

It was raining too, and it was beautiful.

The heat that had seized the afternoon ceased quite abruptly when it started to pour; a waterfall of freshness stained everything in a gentle blueish green, as the wind gently folded in the golden sand. From the lake the smell of earth and water rose as the drops fell down, sharp and hard on them, like shattered glassware, and yet sweet and welcomed like rest after torment.

The quiet, white sound of it reminded him of the old TV they had when he was kid, and when the cartoon program would end, a little buzzing sound, quiet and familiarly kind, would come to tuck him in.

A long, deep, piercing sting passed through his heart and Robb wished that the feeling would just stop.

Absence was such a heavy presence in his head lately that he had stopped wondering how not feeling something could be a feeling.

Outside his window, the pale sky was shimmering with the light fragmented on the rain, the lake pierced, riddled by the drops, would bellow dark and heavy, quietly annoyed from its rest disturbed by the pricking and teasing of the summer drizzle. The soft mumbling of the shower got muffled beyond the lake, where trees of a green tainted black by the soft mist would rise in silence, welcome the droplets into their leaves, cradle them to sleep. Beyond those too, ruled the mountain, high and sweet in tender lilac and the youngest, freshest azure.

Robb felt like he had just witnessed the stubborn, fierce independence of a sweetness that refused to be rushed. He was impatient by nature, a true bull when it came to obtaining what he wanted, and then, there, he looked ecstatic at that whole tender womb of water, swallowing up the rain like the most eager companion. 

He loved the spectacle but loathed being trapped. He would have gladly ran under that rain, taking pictures of it from under and all around, every glimpse, every instant, every color.

Instead he was stuck there, on that damn bed of his damned room, waiting.

He had fixed the roof properly, made some dormice return to their homes – but anyway ended up giving them food and making a small nest for them on the balcony – and he and Grey did a great deal of little repairs, well... he did, Grey mostly made friends with a little red fox. Robb tried to take a picture for Sansa but the animal wasn't fond of the idea of being still at all.

Loneliness came creeping in silence. Or maybe it was always there and had just emerged, rising like mist.

It was in the absence of his father's reflection on the bathroom mirror – he remembered when as a child he would take hot baths in the windy winter, and the mirror would get all fogged up and his father would wipe the steam away to shave, white, fluffy cream that smelled like wood on his face. He'd hum songs and dance just a bit with his hips.

It was the lack of the sounds, the lack of family, of life brimming and glittering around. Since his father died, they never managed to go back to the house all together; his mother would take him or Sansa or Bran or Arya or Rickon, a maximum of two at a time, afraid, as if the presence of all of them would make the absence of one so much thicker and louder and heavier.

It was in the missing scents – no tobacco, no freshly baked apple pies, no wood being consumed in the fireplace, no wet clothes and boots, no chestnuts cooked between orange peels – no joy, no projects, no activities. No moments to build.

And it turned him lonely and empty, like if the lake got all dried up and its bottom womb would stay there waiting for water to come.

But it never did.

Robb felt his hands tremble and hurt.

And then he thought about the lake and that boy who drew graffiti – Theon, Theon, such a soft name.

That moment they talked, Robb didn't feel totally alone, somehow.

Even if it was just a shallow, insipid conversation, it felt... sweet. It felt true, like he was touched. Maybe it was just that he had been too long without a relationship. Without a lover. Without somebody just for himself.

Maybe he was just feeling lonely.

He looked outside the window again, stared at Grey.

“...do you feel like a walk, boy?”

 

*

 

The nosebleed returned often in the day and Theon started to feel easy to the taste of iron.

Theon sighed at his notebook, where dried blood had dripped over lines in pencil or pen of drawings and phrases all around.

He cursed, trying uselessly to rub it away with some saliva on his thumb.

The pencil melted and stained his fingertips grey.

It reminded him of Jey, of how she used to laugh before – how she stopped to.

_Jeyne rhymes with pain._

_Pain, that is white like a line and red like the way it pulses in your nose after. Pain that is a black out and a soft, hot tongue of someone you don’t know in your mouth. Pain that is a mint green of that pristine hospital disinfectant smell._

_I should go tell her. I should go visit her, but I never do._

_You're so weak._

Theon looked at his consumed nails, at the blood dried at the side of his cuticles and the way it reminded him of when he walked all over it, all over him.

He bit his bottom lip to the pulp.

And went out of the house, grabbing just a dark sweater – the hood a bit too big, it covered his hair well – he remembered when he liked stealing clothes to dress up or at least contemplate windows and dream of a future of nice shirts and pretty suits.

But that was before it all changed, after all.

After all.

The scent of rain drenching him to the bone made him feel somewhat at home, somewhat less human and that was a good thing – the cold caught him off guard but it didn’t really matter.

He went to his tunnel, took his spray bottle and took a deep breath, while he felt his brain being torn apart by all the words riding his head.

_Brain. Cain. Chaine. Drain. Fain. Geign. Gain. Lain. Lae. Maine. Plain. Rain. Strain. Vain._ _Vane. Vein. Sane. Sane. Sane._

_Pain rhymes with sane._

That. That sounded good. He wrote it down, as big as he could.

_Pain rhymes with sane._

He just wanted to lose his head, he did since a while.

He panted, staring at it, black of grey, in the night, half-wet, with the rain and wind blowing.

_Pain rhymes with sane._

Theon's eyes stung with a shame and an emptiness he had never felt before.

His Jeyne.

He sniffed, his nose hurting again. White stripes, white bones, white teeth – his teeth on his wrist, exposed bones, and a little line. His nose pulsed again.

His Jeyne was still in a hospital.

“Hey...”

Theon turned, gulping, panting, his breath shaking with his ribcage.

Oh, the man of the other day. With his stupid, big dog.

He was smiling... stupidly. As if he was happy to see him. How ridiculous. Why would anyone be happy to see him...

“You... are a strange kind of guy.”, he said, weakly.

And Theon was sure it sounded like something he had heard once but he couldn't pin point.

“You are dressed like a hobo.”, Theon pointed out, looking up and down on Robb's jeans and big, ruined sweater.

Robb smiled wide, as if he was happy to be bossed around a bit.

And Theon felt his stomach in a knot. He was hot.

Did knot rhyme with hot?

Theon bit his bottom lip, smirking just a tiny bit. “Robert, right?”

“Only my aunt calls me like that. - he smiled – Robb is fine.”

Theon was sure he needed to be hiding something in order to be that good-looking and that alone... maybe he was a serial killer or he lived in his mother's garage or he collected something gross like cockroaches.

He looked at him again.

Well, he was pretty enough to be okay with the cockroaches. Theon mentally traced the line of the dealbreakers at watersports or polo shirts and went forward.

“... do you have a cigarette I can bum?”

“If Marlboros are alright.”

“I'm broke, I don't think I can be picky. - a snort – I'm not going to bitch until you buy me Sobranie.”

Robb scratched his nape, laughing a bit embarrassedly. He lowered his eyes and then raised them again, his neck and collarbones showing a bit too much for Theon not to notice them.

And he loved how they looked.

His eyes gleamed. His nostrils stopped pulsing.

“May I... buy you dinner?”

Theon snorted, shaking his head, “I'm not a dinner type.”

The man looked at him as if he were not sure how to ask further. Theon realized Robb must have been one of those shy men who had just started trying to learn how to swallow fire and burn through it all.

And he liked that too.

Robb then nailed his eyes on Theons, “Are you a skinny dipping type?”

 

 

 


	2. 2. A strange Kind of Woman

_2\. Strange kind of woman_

 

* * *

 

 

The car smelled like Theon now.

It smelled of his moans, of his skin, of the sweetness of the water they had bathed in. Robb sank into him like a stone thrown into the depth of the lake and drowned in him at once and relentlessly altogether.

The moon knocked at the doors of the car and spied on them through the glass.

Theon's voice got higher each time Robb thrust and his hands ran on the sides of the seat and pressed against the blurred window. Their breaths clashed and their kisses were sloppy and clumsy with too much tongue, their teeth clacking and more than pure greed, more than all the greed in the world.

If he could have just consumed him, devoured him, like a cigarette or a glass of liquor, that would have been enough; but a human being you can never own and never possess and the hunger is never sated.

Theon's limbs held onto Robb, his hands ran through his hair, down his back – Theon smelled like paint and water lilies. He smelled like a freedom Robb couldn't afford.

He bit into his neck and Theon screamed, moaned, pushing himself harder onto Robb, riding him, fucking himself on him, hands pressing on his back, trying to hold onto something. Anything.

“ _Beg me and I'll stop hurting her.”_

“ _Theon, Theon – please.”_

“ _Oh? How horrible are you? You would rather have me keep hurting her?”_

Theon pulled Robb closer, deeper, to the point it almost hurt – oh, but the kind of hurt that just shimmers in fever and frenzy and turns into melted fire. He filled Robb's mouth with his tongue, bit his bottom lip, moaned on the verge of his mouth, screaming in bliss when Robb hit inside him, right on his sweet spot, turning pleasure to thunder down his spine.

His jaw dropped, his lips trembled, as he rode on Robb’s lap, through his thrusts, through the pounding, desperate to taste him.

His nails sinking into Robb's back made the latter growl low. Robb pushed deeper into the kiss, stealing Theon's breath and whines, accelerating his thrusts, slamming so rough that Theon could just writhe and scoot, his head pressing against the door, his cock jumping between their abdomen, rock hard and striving for release.

His eyes locked with Robb's while the man moved, deeper, aiming to his prostate each time, in and out, until Theon had to close his eyes, mind blank in pleasure, air steaming with his moans.

“Yes, yes, like that, god...”

“ _Your arms look so pretty now... I'll be forever on your skin.”_

Theon bit his lips, trying to fight back the thoughts, to get lost again. Robb grabbed his jaw and caught him in the sweetest kiss, thrusting rougher, drowning in him a bit more.

Theon felt his cock begin to harden, his balls heavy and came in a spasm, with Robb hitting his prostate relentlessly, slamming him into paradise so unkindly, so perfectly. 

“ _It's romantic, isn't it?”_

Robb moaned, groaned, his thrusts getting erratic, less precise and then faster, until he came, closing his eyes, still moving his twitching, needy hips, ramming into Theon's now oversensitive, raw flesh. Theon tied his legs behind Robb's back, riding Robb's cock still, until the very last drop of heat was spent and Robb's eyes, dark in desire, burning in need, started to focus again.

Theon smirked. Then moved closer, feeling Robb still inside him, and kissed his jaw, gently, softly.

“ _It's romantic, isn't it?”_

He shivered the voice away, then moved to Robb's mouth and kissed him again, deeper, tasting the night in him.

His voice echoed purple and bruised, breathy in the heated car.

“That was something...”

Robb let out a small smile. He hoped to not seem nervous.

“When can I see you again?”

Theon laughed, “For this? Anytime.”

Robb felt something die in his throat. Like if something salty had closed up his lungs.

He didn't want just that, of course.

He looked at Theon, now tiredly, there was a sense of companionship he felt for him... low and senseless, but he did. 

“What if I want more than sex?”

Theon shook his head, amused.

“I ain't for taking, dear... learn it fast.”

A weird shiver ran down his spine, and he realized he didn't want Theon to leave. But it mattered very little.

“Can we continue at my place?”

 

*

 

Theon had scars on his arms that Robb had never seen before, like splattered stars.

He tended to get nosebleeds easily. He slept poorly. He was a bit too skinny.

Robb didn't consider himself an idiot.

But he also didn't want to step into a house until he was invited; he would try to knock at the door and wait for someone to open – but Theon's heart didn't seem up to opening.

Robb stuffed his mouth with his hand, muffling all his moans, while thrusting deeper into him. Theon's hands grabbed the table, his nails scratching the wood, while his knees would threaten to fail him.

Robb's weight over him, his girth inside, the way he moved – it all had started to feel familiar, intimate in a weirdly raw and intense way. Theon was sure there must have been a name for how good it felt.

Robb pulled out his hand just to hear Theon's voice rise and coagulate in lewd, wanton whines. It stirred his groin, like a fever, like pure hunger.

Robb's name would spill from his lips oh so easily, rolling like a dice and dripping like honey – it was almost a mantra. One that worked for real.

One that felt good.

Robb's cock pounded him open – the pleasant tearing sensation and the thrill of being filled were such painkillers, after all that time... after all of that.

He could almost forget, he could almost stop seeing him or feeling him, walking through his veins like a slug, slimy and dense. He could almost feel his skin brim, his blood steam, his nerves sing.

He could feel pleasure without shame trapping and seizing his body.

And it made no sense.

That much even Theon knew.

Robb pulled his hair back, while using the other hand to grab Theon's hip, squeezing his flesh, bruising it. Theon's jaw dropped, his moans and tongue out, his lips wet, begging in messy, shapeless, senseless moans, falling unchained. 

Robb's grip became tighter, but he slowed his thrusts, teasing Theon, driving him insane, moving almost out, just to slam back in – tasting the way his walls begged him not to leave them all empty. Theon protested, rocking his hips back to meet Robb's thrust, fucking himself on his thick cock, faster than he could.

Robb grunted, held him closer.

“You feel so warm. - he whispered – So good.”

_Desire. Dire. Fire. Hire. Liar. Pyre. Tire. Wire._

_Fire, pyre. Dire._

“You too, fuck. - he bit his lip, moving – It's making me so loose, fuck.”

Robb gave his hair another yank. “Flatterer.”

“I wish it was flattery.”, Theon let out, then moaned louder, as Robb started slamming faster and harder, making sure the angle would allow Theon's prostate to feel every damn hit and burn on it.

“Then. - Robb growled – Let's make sure only this fits.”

Theon whimpered, suffocated a whine, and saw blank.

Robb sank his teeth into his shoulders, making him scream, and then fucked his ass so rough, hit him so mercilessly, that Theon just melted around Robb's cock.

His own dick twitched, red in need, and he came, aching and in awe. Robb was still moving inside him, plunging and slamming, forcing him to drag out that orgasm long and raw, mixing it with the intense feeling of his oversensitive flesh, making Theon delirious. 

_Fire._

But two people can never become just one.

And until you're different from something, until you're distinct – Theon knew – you can't trust them totally.

Everyone can abandon you, everyone can leave you behind.

And, as they leave, the ghost of their touch lingers and then sinks, getting buried under your skin.

And becomes scratches on your bones, scars in your bloodstream, cicatrices in the deepest part of your stomach and mind, where nothing can be deleted.

Including the only person that he ever wanted to go away.

His hands clenched the table, he scooted, as Robb's cock pounded still in his raw, red insides, thunder in his flesh, need building up in him again, desire twisting his head dizzy.

And he felt like he was on the verge of a ravine.

_Gorge, sweet gorge, where will the kraken hold his arms to?_

 

*

 

Robb's house, if he could think of it like that, was quite big. Two floors, wide, pretty balcony, many rooms. One could tell his parents had way too many children – did they know condoms existed? – or had some kind of fetish for bedrooms with tiny beds.

_Oookay, that sounded creepy, brain._

Theon managed to find the kitchen only after a good amount of searching and when he saw a little... chess bishop? A knight with a helmet? A little...?

“What the fuck is this”

Robb laughed, turning, “It's for coffee. - he smiled, then lifted the top lid and pointed inside the weird shaped, metal hourglass where some coffee had just started emerging – My parents got it on their honeymoon.”

Theon furrowed his eyebrows.

“I thought people just fucked on their honeymoon. - he mumbled, then raised his face – Oh, fuck, sorry. Your parents, that was gross.”

Robb shrugged, “I have five siblings, if you think I didn't realize that cabbages and storks were a lie before elementary school, you're very mistaken.”

Theon sucked his lips and let out a small smirk.

“I have three myself, but, in my defense, I am the youngest.”

“I could tell.”

“Excuse me?”

Robb shook his head, smiling, and as the coffee scent filled the air, turned off the fire and brought the little knight on the table. He poured the coffee in two mugs and then showed Theon a carton of milk with an interrogative look.

Theon was staring at Robb's ass, in between mesmerized and voracious. He sucked his lips.

“Milk?”, Robb asked, amused and a bit flattered.

Theon woke up just then from his thoughts. “Yea, yeah, love milk.”

_Fattening syrup from a cow's tit. Not gross at all._

Robb poured some and Theon stared, observing his elbows, the naked back, the way his muscles moved, and the freckles riding his pale skin. He had some soft parts around his hips and Theon felt for a moment the temptation to bite them.

He did look so soothing while he poured the milk and coffee, humming a song.

Theon sat down, looking at him, curious like a wary street cat that had just smelled food.

“...so, if you have this big family, why are you here alone? - he asked – Were you banished?”

Robb laughed, shaking his head, scratching his nape.

“I was sent on a mission to clean and send away dormice and squirrels.”

“What a hero.”, Theon mocked, with a hint of lust in his voice.

“I know, I know.”

“So... - Theon brought the mug to his lips, sipping – How long are you going to be here?”

Robb tried not to get his hopes up.

But he was not good at that.

He tried to suppress a smile.

But he was not good at that, either.

“Until I need to, but... I can always come more often.”

Theon raised his eyebrows, “Good to know.”

“You... - Robb swallowed – Do you have many...?”

“Fuckbuddies?”

Robb wondered if that was what they were and it burnt as if Theon had extinguished a cigarette in his stomach and he wished to bite his tongue and fuck him until he would have melted and crumbled and begged him for more.

He looked away, pretending to be interested in the toast he had grabbed.

“I suppose.”

“Not right now. - he admitted, sucking his lips – Had a bit of a...”

_Rough turn? Rough one? Toxic almost relationship but not really with a man who tormented me and then involved another girl?_

_You don't want to tell him about him._

_You don't want to tell him about her._

_You don't want to tell him about yourself._

“...a serious thing before?”, Robb suggested.

Theon laughed, mechanically, “Ah, no, no. Never that, I just... had many, then less, hopefully it will change again.”

Robb felt hurt but buried it somewhere between the folds of his brain, that was already obsessing over the way Theon's fingertips caressed the ceramic of the mug, ever so gently, or the way his knuckles were bony but refined, how his smirk seemed sharp and sweet altogether, how his chest swelled up with breathing.

His throat stung.

“Maybe.”

“And you?”, Theon asked, his voice burning a bit too much with a blue need for answers.

“Ahm. - Robb thought about what to say – Nobody right now.”

“Oh, c'mon. - Theon snorted, chuckled, one of his hands was still holding the mug, but the other travelled, his fingers caressed Robb's knuckles, fakely absentminded – Pretty face, nice body, well-endowed, you couldn’t have been a monk, no?”

Robb swallowed again, nervous.

He thought about his father, dying the 13 th of September.

Sky milk white.

Sky snow white.

His own condom the same color. His come the same color.

The mobile screaming,  _Robb, Robb, something has happened, where are you? Where are you?_

He thought about Renly, moving from under him, looking worried – his ass was still leaking lube and he moved just a bit.  _We're at the hospital._

_Do I return home? We're at the hospital._

“I... had some people, but it has been a long time.”

He thought about Renly, meeting Loras at a Halloween party – and he remembered that with just one look he knew he had lost him. Just before they were even introduced to each other.

And he remembered it felt humiliating.

But not heart-breaking.

At the time he thought maybe he was still grieving; now he wanted to think that maybe it was simply that he was not the right one.

He had to believe in that still.

“Well. - Theon chuckled, then licked his lips, slowly – Time to have fun, then.”

Fun. Or an emotional suicide. Or both.

 

*

 

Theon's fingers trembled.

He caressed the wall, the black signs – the lines riding the cement – suction cups, tentacles, the waves of a sea he barely remember. He was born on the sea, before they moved. All he had now was the lake.

No tempests, no storms. No ferocious gods riding on foam under the whipping of thunders and the growling of the abyss.

Just the quiet, just the rain, swallowing up time and the wind and the winter like a whore and melting it all into a sweetness Theon couldn't understand, grasp, share.

He was alone, he had always been.

He grabbed the golden paint.

_Pain rhymes with sane. Desire rhymes with pyre._

_Robb. Cob. Glob. Sob. Throb._

_Sob rhymes with throb._

He drew the waves around the kraken. And a harpoon in its eye.

“ _Next time you try to escape, I'll take out your eye with a spoon and put it up your ass, am I clear?”_

“ _Good boy, baby boy.”_

“ _Beg me, and I'll let her go.”_

Theon felt nausea hitting his tongue, fucking him as the memories played on. He bent over and threw up – it burned down inside him, it stung, green and yellow and all the acid soaring and roaring up inside him.

He panted, his eyes full of tears, as he couldn't take it away.

The sensation of those hands, of his needles, of the white, the white always. And the way it always returned to him being too weak.

He should have visited Jeyne.

His fingers trembled, as he tried to hold back tears, as he stayed bent over the cement, between the musk and the cigarette butts and all the footprints of people who were not there anymore.

And he thought of Robb.

And he wanted to run away.

Because he didn't want to be vulnerable anymore, in front of anyone, not to anyone. He didn't want to be weak and naked from the soul.

The body, that was all.

That was all.

“ _You feel so warm. So good.”_

“ _So warm.”_

And his voice, his voice was warm too, and soft. And kind.

It made no sense, no sense at all, to think about it, though.

Theon cleaned his face and returned to the graffiti, staring a long time at the kraken's eye.

Then he looked at the other one, that one could still see; and somehow Theon had never felt more cut in half. A leftover of himself.

 

*

 

“She loved everyone and gave them good return... - he hummed, a nail in his mouth and a hammer in his hand - I tried to take her, I even tried to break her...”

Grey Wind side-eyed in perplexity his musical skills and then yawned, passing a ball between his paws, bored.

“She said: I ain't for takin' won't you ever learn.”, Robb sung a bit louder, slamming a nail hard into a piece of wood, almost breaking it.

Grey Wind barked.

Robb sighed, rubbed away the sweat droplets form his forehead and shook his head.

“No, no walk, I have to do this.”

Grey Wind woofed offended and turned, giving Robb the cold shoulder and then started rolling and whining like the absolute drama queen he was.

Robb shook his head, unimpressed and by then frankly used to Grey's... primalupa melodramatic moments. He sighed instead.

From out the bathroom door he could see the table where they... where he. Where he. Where Theon had stayed, his cock resting on it, pulsing, his nails sinking into it, screeching, his hips drumming, begging.

“I want you, I need you, I got to be near you...”, Robb almost whispered. Almost on the verge of heartbreak without realizing it.

Why though?

They had met so little.

And he was not one to get too attached to others- he was a family person, he was dear and loyal, but he took his time to trust others. Usually.

But Theon made him feel like thin glass, so fragile a flame could have shattered him.

Usually.

“I want you, I need you... - he half sung half murmured again, unable to divert his eyes from the table – I got to be near you.”

Maybe it was because they were both alone, not in the usual way people are alone. More in depth, more in the profundity of their mind. Maybe they felt each other and saw, though the fabric of normality, someone else not fitting in it.

Maybe he was the only one who felt that way.

He took out his mobile, his fingers trembling a bit on the screen.

Grey Wind came behind him, hitting his leg with his nose, whining low.

“If I go for a walk, I'll search for him. - Robb explained, as if it made sense – You, as my pet, should want me not to humiliate myself stupidly.”

Grey Wind woofed in protest, nibbling Robb's shoe.

“You know I have no self-control.”

Grey Wind then rolled down, staring at Robb from below with the most judgemental look a dog could produce.

“Okay, okay, walk. But you have to stop me if I want to see him.”

 

*

 

Of course, he didn't.

Partially, because Grey Wind was a dog, and as such not able to follow such a complicated instruction. Mostly, he didn't care. Squirrels and red balls were more important.

And his human was stubborn, he would have done what he wanted anyway.

So Robb found himself at the diner, ordering chicken and waffles, and then waffles and icecream, because if he had learnt one thing from American TV shows it was to acknowledge waffles as the lovechild of bread and biscuits.

While eating, he looked outside, at the lake with droplets of black trees around, at the lilac dancing with the viridian and he wondered if there was something of him that was still as alive as he was when his dad was there.

He sucked his fingers, cleaning them.

And he thought about pushing them into Theon's greedy, eager, soft mouth.

He spooned the melted cream from the bowl.

And he thought about Theon offering his tongue to his heavy cock to swallow his load.

He shook his head and looked outside again.

And he thought about Theon smiling and resting next to him.

Not going away.

Not running from his car, from his house, from his arms. Staying.

He did have the prettiest smile.

Robb was not one to lose it over smiles or such, he liked other things more; but when Theon smiled, somehow, a part of Robb always felt like a room had been lit all of a sudden and shapeless shadows finally returned to being real things.

Theon's smile was soothing and arousing all at the same time.

And Robb was not sure he had ever seen anything like that before.

“Hey.”

He raised his eyes, meeting him.

His hair was now way more ruffled, he had a cigarette pending from his soft, swollen lip – still bruised from all their making out – and he was wearing a different shirt than before.

“Theon.... hi.”, he tried to sound non-chalant, failing.

Theon scoffed and smirked.

“Did you eat for an army?”

Robb let out a little groan, “I did a lot of work at home.”

“Oh, sucks. - Theon mumbled, gaining back a questioning look, then he gave a little, smug wink – Because it means you'll have to go soon. I was hoping for you to slack off a bit.”

Robb let out the most embarrassed and, frankly, smitten laugh that Theon had ever heard.

But, for some reason, he didn't step away.

“Can I sit?”, he asked.

Robb smiled, radiant, “Please, do.”

Theon's legs touched Robb's ankles under the table while Theon's eyes wandered as he glanced through the small diner just to rest slightly on the table, chin on his hand, as if he was bored.

“Tell me something.”

“Something.”

“...dork.”

Robb snorted, “What do you want to know?”

Theon's eyes were smoldering.  _Just be naked, be more naked than me, be more vulnerable._

_So I won't be scared of being close to you. Because I don't want to be afraid of it._

“Anything.”

“I hate my birthday.”

Theon frowned, “Really? When is it?”

“13th of September. - he replied, dryly, then he forced a smile – Yours?”

“Ah-a. - Theon shook a finger – I ask the questions.”

Robb smiled, bringing his glass to his mouth to drink, “But then how will I check your horoscope and giggle like a schoolgirl?”

Theon's leg moved. His knee rubbed between Robb’s legs, on his crotch, pressing slightly.

He licked the corner of his open mouth, then smacked his wet lips together.

“Tell me more...”

 

 


	3. 3. Maybe I'm a Lion

_3\. Maybe I'm a Leo_

 

* * *

 

 

Maybe it was in the special way they fucked.

Like animals.

Like nothing else existed but Theon's hole and Robb's prick, pushing one against the other. Robb's mouth would envelope Theon's pulsing cock, Theon's would gag on his own moans as Robb would hammer his sweet spot, and they would start again.

Like nothing else existed.

And the way Theon's voice sounded when his throat opened again as he gasped for air, emerging from breathplay, haunted Robb in delight. And the way Theon's mouth pulsed and quivered in curses, when Robb would enter him, as if his cock was too overwhelming and big to be felt all at once, stirred Robb in bliss. And the way Theon's bruised wrists were purple against the red rope and the way he whined to come while tied up and powerless, hard and begging for release, made Robb sure heaven existed and it started and ended in the one meter seventy-eight centimetres and sixty kilograms of Theon's figure. A small world, a perfect world.

And maybe that was why he was afraid.

Afraid of being honest, afraid of being open, afraid of being left behind.

Things that happen pool in your guts and hide behind your fingernails and before you notice you're all filled to the brink with stuff you'd like to forget, and it fills your lungs until you get apnoea and it pulses and breaks your fingers from the inside.

And he was afraid of Theon leaving him behind.

Maybe it was not about the way they fucked; maybe it was about all that emerged from it, like relicts of broken ships from the ocean, and stuck to their ribcages: the trust they had without knowing each other, the hunger for one another harder and bigger than anything, the absolute way they were lost in one another's arms without even questioning it.

It was stupid and uncalled for and impossible to stop.

In the days following their meeting, they barely separated, maybe for a few hours, just to appear again, Theon on Robb's door or Robb at Theon's tunnel or both of them rushing through the woods, grabbing each other, one throwing the other over the car or in it, sinking into the low waters of the lake shore.

There was an eagerness, disconnected and smouldering, in the way their hands had to grab each other's skin and flesh and soul.

They fucked so much those days, that Robb could barely remember which days which bruises and hickeys belonged to and more and more of Theon's skin became a bitemark minefield of red and purple and moans just by being brushed on.

His ass was sore, but Theon didn't seem to mind. He would ask for care and slowness at first and, while they were at it, beg for it to be hard and rough and for all the things that would have torn him rawer.

Robb fell in love with the way Theon panted out his name, shivering and coming all over himself, while welcoming Robb's come. His eyes would become dark and he would seem like he could almost faint in the afterglow.

That was what Robb loved the most.

That and the face Theon had when he looked at the horizon, out of the window, as the curtains were slapped around by the wind, the scent of the woods brought in – hazelnut trees, chestnuts, one could smell the water too, rotting and nourishing the wood, and the heavy fruits from the trees – and the colors of the lake shimmering and simmering away.

He had that look, like he was not sure that that was real life, like he was not sure if things existed and were there for him to touch.

And Robb somehow thought he was the same in his life with more or less anything else.

“It's raining.”, Theon said, looking outside as the shower started, pouring vividly on the colors.

“I can smell it. - Robb commented, still on the bed, his hips hurting from too much thrusting – And hear it too.”

“I see.”, Theon chuckled, returning on the bed.

He was still naked.

As beautiful as Adonis under the moonlight.

“Don't return home by foot in the rain. - Robb said, the heart on his sleeve poorly hidden – Stay here a bit longer.”

Theon seemed to weight out the offer. He looked outside and then in again, then went under the soft, huge feather blanket and covered himself up to the collarbones.

“Yeah, too cold to go.”

“You're a bit of a cat.”, Robb observed.

“Meow.”

Robb chuckled, then bent over to open his night stand.

“I can offer you a cigarette and some chocolate.”

“Tempting. - Theon snorted – Can I have something to drink with it?”

“Uh. - Robb seemed to think – Under the stairs, in the living room, next to the chimney, there is a liqueur cabinet, but I'm not sure what's in it right now.”

“Happiness, Robb, happiness.”, Theon chirped, standing up and moving.

Robb shook his head, smiling, then glancing at Theon's firm and soft ass moving up and down. Come still dripped down his tight.

“Should I put a plug in you?”

Theon let out a chortle, “You’ve made me so loose, it would swim in there.”

“Then I should fill you up myself. - he proposed – Grab you, make you cross your legs around my waist, and keep you like that, while we go down the stairs together, you holding onto me while I have my cock buried in your tiny, whory ass.”

Theon bit his lips, sucking them slowly.

“Or... you could go down for me while I rest my ass from your relentless efforts to break my hips.”, he suggested.

Robb sighed then stood up.

“Gin, whisky, rum?”

“Wine, red. - he said, putting a soft kiss on Robb's lips – Or a cointreau.”

“Picky.”

“Refined.”

“As you please.”

Robb shook his head and smiled.

Theon found himself thinking he could have loved him. If he had been able to love and be loved, of course.

His eyes fell on a small photograph on the bedstand: a man who looked nothing like Robb, if not in the wide shoulders, a woman with all of his colors – his parents, no doubt, he observed – and then one... two... three too many children.

“You look like your mom.”

Robb snorted, “You should see her brother, I'm the photocopy.”

“Your brother looks like your father a lot, instead. - he frowned – I thought you were the oldest.”

“He's my cousin, Jon.”, Robb explained, stiffening.

_Your father. “You don't look like him at all”._

“ _Sometimes I feel I’ve lost him even more due to how little you mirror him...” “Mom...” “I'm tipsy, forgive me, I'm being silly.”_

“I look like an uncle too, they say.”, Theon mumbled, absent-mindedly.

Robb felt a weird sensation leaving his chest lighter.

“Do you and your father get along?”, Theon asked. His lips quivered and trembled, they seemed to twitch.

We did.

“Yeah, he's... - _was, was, was, he's nothing, nothing anymore, not in the air not in the water not in the soul not in the fucking metal chunks of his car and not in me_ – ...chill.”

“That's better than mine.”

Robb moved closer, sat next to Theon on the bed and kissed his temples, softly, slowly.

“...I'm sorry.”

He didn't need to ask, somehow. It was as if he had guessed, as if he knew already.

As if he always had.

Theon blinked and smiled, tired but at peace.

“Does he also like to hum that song?”

“Which one?”

“The one you sing in the shower after sex?”

Robb smirked, “That one reminds me of you.”

“I know. - Theon tweeted, flirty – Wanted to hear you say it.”

Robb smiled and leaned in for a kiss.

“I was thinking... - Theon mumbled, rolling in the sheets, the sun knocking at the curtains, droplets of lights shining in his hair – Maybe for your... birthday, I could come to the city.”

Robb frowned.

“You know... birthday sex?”

Robb swallowed, looked away.

“Not a fan of that.”

“Why?”

“No particular reason. - a mechanical laugh – But... you could come and we could...”, his eyelids opened and closed and his glance softened so much that Theon felt his heart break.

_Relationships are scary._

_Vulnerability is._

_Being naked, raw, all vulnerable with you – for what? Why? And Ramsay? He will always doom over me. And her too... because I didn't save her._

_Or I did, but not enough._

_Jeyne rhymes with pain. Pain rhymes with sane. Desire rhymes with pyre. Robb rhymes with …_

_Sob rhymes with throb._

_Robb rhymes with … what if it rhymes with Reek? It doesn't. What if._

“Don't make any plans. - a low chuckle, a wounded edge – I was offering a nice fuck, not a whole life commitment.”

 

*

 

“Misplaced: we should have met in another universe.”, Robb mumbled, reading.

The tentacles of the kraken and its eyes seemed to haunt him, to taunt him.

_Another universe. If there's such a thing, how cruel is it that we're in this one?_

_How worse could be any other?_

_Wish you were mine._

The woman looked over to him concerned.

“Do you think they will clean it?”

“Clean it?”, Robb frowned, confused.

“This mess. - she pointed at the graffiti and then moved away, shaking her head – Poor wall, it was clean once.”

_Clean. Empty. Untraced. Inartistic._

_No art anywhere where he's not. He's the blood, he's the pulse, he's the voice._

_How empty, how clean, I am also, when I'm not with him?_

Grey Wind licked his hand as if to call him and then followed Catelyn into the little diner, absolutely ecstatic at the idea of what the lady would have given him to spoil him more.

“I'm so happy you helped prepare the house. - she said, softly – Rickon and Bran really needed some quietness.”

Robb smiled, ordering them two coffees and petting Grey under the table. The waitress poured the black liquid for them and looked at Robb almost questioning, as if she wondered where Theon was.

Or so Robb felt like.

“No problem. It was free exercise.”

She sucked her lips and shook her head a bit, “I suppose so, but I hope you had also the time to enjoy the lake a bit.”

Robb swallowed dryly, looking away.

His mother looked at him sadly, her fingers held onto the silver spoon, stirring in the sugar and melting it into her black coffee.

“I saw Renly and Loras the other day. - she mumbled – They look like they match well.”

_Do you miss dad?_

“They do.”

A sigh, “You should find a boyfriend too, you know? - she caressed the rim of the cup before bringing it to her mouth and sipping – Someone nice.”

_You wouldn't like who I like. I would like. Would. If._

_You wouldn't like Theon. Or whoever else they would be. Or Theon._

_TheonTheonTheon._

He forced out a smile.

“Are you that eager to have me married?”

Her eyes didn't smile, her glance fell from his look. Her hands trembled around the cup rim. The spoon tingled, brushing against the ceramic border.

_You wouldn't like Theon. Like you didn't like Renly. Like you'll never like any boyfriend._

_Ah._

_Hurts a bit how sour it feels in the mouth._

_Theon. Theon doesn't do relationships. Theon. I wish he belonged to me. I fear I belong to him already. Sour. Sweet._

“I like the graffiti outside. - he said, drinking his coffee – They seem to tell a story under their breath.”

Her eyes shone. “I see.”

“Do you want to sleep here tonight? - Robb asked – Like if you see that everything’s ready and you need no other help, you can sleep here, it's useless for you to return home. I'll go get Bran and Rickon myself and bring them over.”

“Wouldn't that be too much for you? To make the road three times in a day?”

“You doing it today and tomorrow is worse. - he chuckled – You don't have to tire yourself down.”

_Dad would hate me if I let you._

_Dad probably hates me anyway._

_I hope heaven and hell don't exist, so he can't be disappointed in me. Or begrudge me._

“...and. - she sipped her coffee, her eyes glanced at her son's neck, at a purple shadow popping from under the heavy scarf – Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to be alone at home tonight, instead of having us around?”

Robb shivered in cold sweat that electrified his spine. He scratched his nape, fixed the scarf without realizing it and coughed, clearing his voice.

“Sure, I mean... of course not.”, he lied, horribly.

Always had been awful at it.

Catelyn smirked into her coffee.

 

*

 

Asha ruffled his hair.

“They're growing thick again. - she said, with a little smirk – Good brother.”

“Must be your gain a hippo weight diet for me.”, Theon commented, mostly bitter just about the soft gesture from his sister.

He knew he had to get back his weight from before.

He even wanted to.

But he kept hearing his voice, kept feeling the way his fingers pinched his skin and called it rotten fat, the way he suggested he could slice him open and take it out for him, but then he'd just slap him, spit on him - Y _ou need to learn some discipline and self-control, baby, you can't look like this next to me, can you? Now, now, open your mouth._ And he'd fuck his mouth and come in it, making him gag around his slimy, bulgy cock. And then he'd pee into his throat too, keeping his head against the stinky hairs of his crotch. Theon had always wished he could have puked, but Ramsay hadn’t allowed him even that.

_This was your lunch and dinner. Hope you enjoyed it._

He raised his eyes from the newspaper.

“Is dad still asleep?”

Asha licked her lips and nodded slowly. “Better so. - she mumbled, pouring him some whole milk and handing him the most caloric muesli that was available in the discount – You don't really crave to see him hangover again.”

“I suppose not.”, he mumbled, pouring over the cereal and starting to munch. It reminded him of Robb, somehow.

_Robb._ He was thinking about him more and more and being without him started to be hard.

_Hours without him are boring. Full on horribly boring._

_It's not like I need him or stuff. I mean, he's a nice fuck... maybe could be mo- I mean, he's not going to, we're not going to, I'm not like- but he told me stuff. He's being all honest and sweet._

_And he's kind of cute._

_Not only butt wise or stuff, like... he's caring? What the fuck._

_And the face he makes, the way he looks at me – adoring and rough and wild – when I keep his cock in my mouth and I suck him. Oh god, he tastes so good, he feels good._

_With him, I never... I don't really feel dirty._

_The little film of greasy disgusting dirt that he left on me, Robb cleans it away. Robb's touch exposes my skin to the light and the air and to warmth._

_And I don't feel Ramsay anymore._

_But a person shouldn't have all of this power... not anymore._

_But... without him everything becomes boring._

_What the fuck, Theon, get over yourself._

Asha smirked, “Is your breakfast revealing the deepest ontological truth or are you staring at it because raisins are gross?”

Theon sighed, “Smartass. - he mumbled – Today I have to go out a bit.”

Asha's lips curled.

“Painting or... ?”

“None of your business.”

“So the or.”

Theon munched and then stood up to go; warmth rode his veins and made him impatient and restless. He wanted a kiss, his lips were stinging painfully from how untouched they felt.

He walked the roads, the little woods, the street along the lake, music deeply buried in his ears. The stupid cd that Robb had in his car the first time they hung out, the music that echoed as Robb's cock pierced through him, the one he sang under the shower, tone-deaf and perfect.

And the lilac from the lake and the greyish green of the pines seemed to want to calm him, to engulf him and caress him through the day.

_Loving someone, now, that would be true masochism, wouldn't it?_

_To want someone after all that happened. To want to belong._

And yet –  _the idea of Robb_ – Robb and only him and the way he felt on his skin, and the way he had never felt alone since Robb was around, the way they mixed and matched and melted. That had to mean something, after all.

_Maybe, perhaps._

 

*

 

Catelyn opened the door and her mouth unlocked. Her eyes widened.

Theon frowned, looked around. It was impossible he had gotten the wrong house, he had been there too often and there wasn't another one close by. 

It took him a moment: hair red as damp autumn leaves saturated like cherries.  _His mother._

“Ah, I was.... Robb, but if it's the wrong moment.”

She observed him for a long time, or so it felt like, maybe it was a moment stretched on a Catherine’s wheel to torment him; her eyelids fluttered as her look got hard and soft back and forth. 

“I... will come in another moment.”

“Theon!”

The woman turned to Robb, who had just appeared from the kitchen door, “Who is your friend, dear?”

“Uh, a friend. - he replied, eloquent as only he could be – Do you mind if...”

“Yes, yes, your old mother leaves you two alone.”

Theon frowned, embarrassed, waiting for Catelyn to leave the hall.

“I'm sorry. - Robb said – I should have told you she was going to come here.”

Theon cleared his throat, scratched his nape, “It's okay... I was just hoping we could... hang out.”

Robb swallowed, “I would love to, maybe I could come to your place?”

“My father wouldn't be enthusiastic about it, I'm afraid.”

_Euphemism of the year award: achieved._

Cat appeared behind them again, this time with her coat on and a little smile. She kissed Robb's cheek and ruffled his curls.

“I’ve decided to go back on my own tonight, dear. - she smiled – I'll take your car and I'll be back tomorrow night with Bran and Rickon. - she turned to Theon – I'm sure you will not need your car today, it seems you two have plans.”

“Mom, it's not... prudent to drive alone.”

Catelyn let out a low sigh, “Honey, it's time for me to drive alone and for you to not be my babysitter.”

Robb tensed. He looked upset, terrified, even.

Theon felt a weird shiver run down his spine.

“But what if-”

“Your dad wouldn't have wanted us to fear cars forever. - she said, almost drastic in her beautiful bluntness – And driving his car will... well, it's something I may need to do.”

Theon frowned, looking into the void and then at Robb.

Robb bit his lips, sucking them.

_You lied._

_You didn't tell me._

_I was vulnerable and you were protecting yourself._

_Lie rhymes with bye, cry, dry, dye, eye, fly, high, ply, pry, rye, shy, sigh, sly, thigh, thy, why, wry._

_You lied. You lied._

Theon shook his head slowly and Robb moved closer, holding his arm to not make him go. Theon bit his lips and sucked them, keeping himself from leaving just because Robb's mom was putting on her gloves.

“Have a good day, dears. Oh, I left something on the counter as a treat.”

“Mom, I'm an adul-”

“Spoil your friend!”, she said, half-singing.

Her son hadn’t dated in years. Her feet felt light, her legs long and agile.

Ned, she knew, would have been happy too.

As she left, Theon glared at Robb with fury in his eyes.

“Can we … discuss it in the room above, please?”, Robb asked, looking around.

Theon nodded, more because his head was pressing him with burning thoughts and hurt and he needed to order the words, before they'd spill out from his mouth carelessly. He followed Robb up to the bedrooms and saw him breathing, hands in front of his face, trying to find something to say.

“Look, I-”

“You didn't tell me...”

Robb's throat hurt. “I, my father is not my favorite topic.”

“You said he was alive.”

“I told you I hate my birthday.”

“You didn't tell me why, though. - Theon reprimanded him, hurt – You made it sound like a silly trivia.”

Robb shook his head, “I'm sorry.”

“You lied to me.”, Theon hissed.

“I didn't lie.”

“Oh, sure, you just... forgot to tell me your father died on your birthday, which is why you hate it. - Theon spat – Convenient.”

“It was painful to talk about...”

“I asked you to be open.”

Robb's eyes squinted, pain flinched, stung deep down his lungs.

“You don't get to be sheltered like this. - he said, shaking his head – You can't expect people to be vulnerable with you while you keep protecting yourself.”

“I did it to give you a chance!”

Theon had shouted it and his lips quivered, wet. His eyes red.

Robb, though, seemed just more hurt than before.

“What.”

Theon's chest jumped and he screamed again, his face burning, how could he have been so blind and ungrateful, “I wanted to try! But I didn't know how to be vulnerable, so I did it and you blew it! you blew it!”.

Robb slammed him against the wall and Theon felt pain sizing his spine, but let out just a chocked moan. Robb's hand was next to his face, pinning him.

His anger shone blue and electric.

But Theon was not afraid this time.

Because his anger was not of cruelty, it was of his hurt – pure, raw, hurt heart bleeding desperation over him. 

“I am not a test.”, Robb said, his voice gravelly and half roared.

Theon felt his hips tremble, knees about to buckle, he could feel one of Robb's hands move to his waist, hold his iliac crest and god how he wished it hurt. That it hurt so good the pain would melt away his breath.

_And Ramsay too_ .

Robb slammed his mouth on Theon's, pushed, fought, dragged his lips open and forced his tongue in, invading him brutally. Theon moaned, delighted, bliss stirring him hard.

He grabbed Robb's shirt, scratching his back, his fingers running on it, holding him tight in an open-mouthed kiss that felt like two hungry, desperate lions devouring each other.

They closed their eyes and drowned into one another, heat running in their violent delights and pouring salt in wanted wounds. Theon arched his back, rubbed his crotch against Robb's, not needing anything else to say.

Robb was a fool for him and, god help him, Theon knew he was for Robb.

But it was then or never and forbidden fruits never wait, they rot so quickly and desire roots itself so deeply but occasions get wasted in the wind sooner than those can freeze over. And losing Robb would have hurt too much.

And losing Theon was not an option.

Theon could feel Robb's weight, heavy, clashing him against the wall, he could feel his hands lifting him up by the hips and pressing him against the walls. Theon lowered his own jeans, threw the belt away, trying not to fall, ah, but Robb was strong enough to keep him up.

And, god, he felt so good, he felt so warm.

Theon's mouth clenched to his, his tongue filling Robb, claiming him, Robb would grunt, bite his lips, break off the kiss just to bite his neck purple and draw blood. Theon moaned out loud, his nails sunk in Robb's back, his hands sled and clung onto him.

One of Robb's hands held him in place, while the other started to scissor his hole, prodding, teasing, moving in and out quickly enough that Theon started to squirm and move his hips against it.

“Beg me.”

Theon's eyes shone and a languid, lustful grin gleamed on his face.

He crossed his legs around Robb's waist, helping himself up.

“Please, sir. - his voice hot, he opened his mouth and licked his lips wet – Fuck me unconscious.”

Robb seemed pleased with that, his hand moved swiftly to his jeans, freeing his half-hard cock, and then to the close by nightstand and he grabbed a lube bottle and stuffed it in Theon's mouth.

“Squeeze it. - he said, keeping his hand in front of it – You don't want sir's cock dry and raw, do you?”

Theon probably would have protested, hadn't he been hard, desperate for a filling, and with a bottle stuffed in his mouth. He pressed it against the palate of his mouth until a good bit squirted onto Robb's hand.

“Good boy. - he said, rubbing his shaft with the lube and then Theon's hole again, one finger at a time, slow enough to drive him crazy and needy – You're fucking yourself on my fingers, sweetheart, do you need it that much?”

Theon nodded, his cheeks still deformed by the bottle. His eyes rolled back in lewd bliss, as he felt Robb's cock widening his asshole, moving in slowly; he moaned and drooled over the bottle, almost gagging on it, squeezing more lube out, which splurted down onto his own cock, aching to be touched.

His legs trembled, but he managed to keep himself close, tied to Robb, as he started to move faster, rougher, pushing and slamming his whole length in, balls-deep, hard and thick.

Theon let out strangled mewls, while moving his hips, just before being pressed and pinned even more against the wall.

Robb pressed with a hand on his hips, drawing blood, while his thrusts got faster, relentless, slamming mercilessly into Theon's prostate, overwhelmed. Need pooled in Theon's balls and he whined harder as Robb's other hand seized his neck and pressed, taking away all the air in his lungs and making each sensation more intense.

Colors always saturated in lack of breath.

His lips quivered, his jaw dropped. The bottle fell on the floor.

Robb was staring at him, pupils blown dark in desire, lust drawing his veins out, dragging strength through his bones. And Theon loved seeing him like that.

He was so different from him...

Robb hit his prostate again, over and over, aiming at it with sweet cruelty – and Theon jumped, twitched, squirmed, his hips giving in to wanton needs, his breath still nowhere to be found, his head dizzy, he saw blank, then he felt Robb's tongue inside, filling him whole, to the brink, to the edge of his pained throat, drinking the last bit of oxygen he had inside and slamming his tongue in like he slammed his cock inside his torn, open ass.

_Bliss. Blits. Gliss. Glass. Bliss. Miss. Don't go away._

_Robb rhymes with -_

_Bliss. Abyss._

When Robb left his throat, Theon let out a deep moan and took a big breath, filling his lungs again after the apnoea and his eyes went wide, while he still felt the hard cock drill into him.

He came hard, spilling between them, their stomachs stained, but he looked like he was going to faint.

Robb's hand caressed his cheek slowly.

… _does it rhyme with love?_

“Do I pull out?”, Robb asked, softly.

_It doesn't._

“No, no...”, he whispered, kissing his palm, resting his face against it, panting.

_But it doesn't matter._

Robb kissed his forehead, while slowing down his thrusts in Theon's oversensitive, burning ass, “Are you sure? - he kissed the temple – Want me to bring you on the bed?”

“Yes, sir, please.”

“I'll spank you well, sweetheart.”

 

*

 

His butt stung, but the cream over it and the kisses he received made the pain pure comfort.

Theon snuggled closer to Robb, caressing his naked chest, playing with his ginger fur. Robb kissed his forehead.

“I'm sorry, I should have told you about my dad.”, he whispered, then kissed him again.

Theon nodded, slowly.

“You were right, though, I can't expect you to be all open when I'm not.”

“But you're doing me a favor in considering a thing unusual for you.”

Theon shook his head and then kissed Robb's nipples and licked them softly, breathing then the scent of the soft red hair and the sweet sweat from the love they shared beforehand.

“Not really. - he smiled against Robb's skin – Because I want it too.”

Robb blinked.

Try to sit up, but Theon's weight kept him down. He just smiled, in the most stupidly happy way.

“...whoa.”

“Yeah. - Theon nodded – It surprises me more than you, trust me.”

Robb smiled, closing his eyes and welcoming the scent of the lake water coming from the window.

He closed his eyes.

Theon's voice trembled, but he was caressing his chest calmly.

“I will tell you it all... but promise me not to go away.”

“I couldn't if I tried.”, Robb said, in his softest voice.

His hand caressed Theon's face, brushed his jaw. Theon closed his eyes and smiled.

_Robb rhymes with heart throb._

 


End file.
